


You Let Me Complicate You

by ivanolix



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Canon - TV, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Hate Sex, Het, Pegging, Porn, Role Reversal, Roleplay, Sadism, Season/Series 01, Spanking, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kahlan will take everything—it's not just a game to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Let Me Complicate You

It's not the first time she's found him with a whore.

She doesn't blame him—rather a whore who enjoys herself than Kahlan's half-grudging pleasure. Darken always has the most eager women in his bed; their desire for him, feeding his ego, is probably all it takes to arouse him. She doesn't blame him, yet after six years it makes her hackles rise to see another woman servicing him.

Every time she stumbles upon them—usually just one whore, but not always—locked in messy coitus, it's never the first time but a part of her wants it to be the last. Kahlan's bitterness eats her alive sometimes, and only lifelong-cultivated self-control—and an understanding of futility—keeps her from demanding that her husband share the same unhappy celibacy.

Instead, she walks away.

Kahlan always walks away, and when it's time for bed she holds her breath so she doesn't have to smell sex on him. One thing she could never say about Darken Rahl is that his form is repulsive. Even his smell, wood and spice and sweat, flirts with the senses.

But after six years of marriage, Kahlan can't hide the disdain.

"Do you wish to come to my bed?" he asks one evening.

"If you wish it," she answers flatly.

"Then do you mind if I find alternative company?"

Kahlan gives him a long slow look. "You've never asked before, husband."

He smirks, that smirk that says _I know just what to say to get you talking._ Leaning back in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other, he gestures to her in a mockery of conciliation. "I didn't think it necessary, but your manners would suggest otherwise. I'm attempting to remedy the situation, there's no need to look so suspicious."

Kahlan hates these word games, these mind games, with all her heart. Swallowing a fierce retort leaves her with barely enough control to keep from glaring, and her tone comes out choked as she says, "I expected higher standards."

That, it seems, catches him off-guard. One eyebrow rises. "You would prefer to choose my whores for me? You're aware of a higher quality?"

Even across the room, Kahlan's sure the grinding of her teeth is audible. Arguing with this man makes her desire his blood, his agony. "I'd rather not discuss it. Do as you like."

But he rises to his feet, and she knows she's not getting away so easily. "Nonsense, my wife, I value your honest opinion. Tell me, what's wrong with my whores?" The glitter in his eyes is a challenge she can't refuse.

"It's lazy," Kahlan snaps. "That's all I have to say on the matter. You so enjoy a challenge everywhere else, after all, but when it comes to your needs all you want is what every man wants—a girl obligated to do exactly as you wish."

That, it seems, hits a mark—barely. Darken draws closer to her, focus sharp. "It's not as easy as you think, getting what you want."

Kahlan holds her ground and gives him naught but a scornful look.

"Someday you should try it," he says with a taunting flash of his eyes. "Hire a whore of your own to service you, see if the experience is as plebeian as you imagine."

Hackles raised, Kahlan tosses back before she can help herself, "Maybe I would, if you attempted the opposite. But you're all talk, Darken, and I'm tired."

She turns to retire to their bedchamber, but he grabs her arm. "Is that a challenge?"

A challenge, she thinks, would be him pretending he _wasn't_ the Creator incarnate and deserving of all worship. But for all that she attempts to bite her tongue and leave the issue be—not engage any further than she has to with this irritating man—there's a part of her that wants war. If not literal, with his blood on her hands, then she'll best him at his own mind games. Forcing her tone to be cool as snowmelt, she meets his eyes. "You always play the same role, Darken Rahl. I doubt you have the ability to play any other."

"I asked," he purrs, slipping closer with eyes dark as the embers of the fire, "is that a challenge?"

"Yes," she answers.

"Done."

She stares at him.

"I've been master of D'Hara for twenty years," he says, "I know what's wanted in a slave. I'll play that game with one of my Mord'Sith, if you'll play mistress after. We'll see who changes their mind about which is the easier role."

There's a dangerous light in his blue eyes, half playful and half wanting her to be proved wrong. Always, Darken wants to be right. He wants to win. Peace has even made him a little cocky, and if it wasn't so infuriating Kahlan might be able to use it.

As it is, she's stir-crazy and tired of feeling helpless. The thought of him on his knees, for whatever reason, lights a fire in her loins like nothing else ever has. "Submit to me, and _then_ we have a deal."

He hesitates then, and a smirk twitches on her lips. But his obdurate will carries through, and he merely nods. "A deal."

Kahlan retires after that—but not to their chambers after all. No, she has a visit to make, to the Mord'Sith temple. Now is not the time for Confessor morals; now she's playing a dark game, and she'll bother with guilt later. If she's going to have Darken Rahl at her mercy, she wants to relish every second.

-

Her mind and body buzz with expectation. The woman in red had been more than willing to teach Kahlan how to dominate—more than willing to demonstrate on a sister of the agiel. Kahlan had flinched, squirmed, felt dirty, and yet her blood throbbed at the raw sexuality of it all. She was but a woman of flesh and blood, after all.

"If you want to make anything but a fool of yourself, you must become one of us," the Mord'Sith had counseled. "You must demand everything, and expect nothing but obedience. No retribution or failure."

Kahlan had eyed her, the word why on the tip of her tongue. But she needn't ask. The smug look in those eyes gave her the answer she needed—the woman didn't think she could do it. She'd give Kahlan everything she needed, just to show that even with all the resources this woman would fail. The Mother Confessor could not compare with a Mord'Sith mistress, _that_ was the lesson expected to come of this evening.

It only steeled Kahlan with resolve. Armed with props as well as knowledge, Kahlan held her head high when returning to the bedchamber she shared with Darken Rahl. The sensibilities that might have made her blush no longer made themselves known after being married to the Lord of D'Hara.

Now she waits, heart already beating fast. Tonight, she's Mistress Kahlan, and Darken Rahl is her slave.

He enters the room as Lord Rahl, when he finally arrives. The lines of his body, the expression of his face, all proclaim that _he_ is master. Not for long, she tells herself, over and over as she tries to believe it.

Darken slowly strips his outer robes, leaving a long vest and trousers underneath. His skin gleams in the firelight, but he still wears his Rahl legacy, its colors and its arrogance. "I can call in a Mord'Sith to play the role, Kahlan, never fear," he says when she hesitates.

"Mistress." Her voice cuts the tense air like a whip. She didn't intended it, but it sends a thrill up her spine nonetheless. "You will call me mistress tonight, or you will not be able to speak at all."

Oh how a pleasant burn fills her, to see the surprise in his eyes. Her hands unclench at her sides, and she lets her head tip to the side. "And your answer to that, pet?"

He has to roll the words around in his mouth before he can give voice to them, but he does not fail. "I am here for your pleasure, mistress." The little tip of his head is a nice touch.

Before she can falter again, Kahlan orders without moving. "It is my pleasure that you get out of those clothes. You don't deserve them."

Eyes on hers the entire time, Darken Rahl obeys. "As you wish, mistress."

As he bares flesh to her unashamed eyes, she has to swallow and tighten her jaw. Kahlan, who had once dreamed of making love among the roses...this isn't her, she can't do this. She will blush after all, she will stumble, she will fail and he will laugh.

His smirk is bad enough, but his laugh at her inexperience...

Kahlan's pride leaps to the forefront, but so does her hatred. This is just a game to him. He means nothing by his words. All is just an act, falsehood to the core. Well, she might not have actor's blood but she doesn't need it. All the defeat and humiliation he's brought to her, deliberate or no, and this is her chance to return it. Let Darken Rahl think it a game, while she makes him beg. Brutality is beyond her, but passion has its dark side.

And tonight he is hers to use.

Fired with the lust for control over her enemy, and not caring for anything else, she draws her attention back to him. Lord Rahl and unwanted husband. Bare before her, erection showing just how rebellious he is beneath the humble words. Kahlan will fix that, if she does anything at all.

"You find it pleasing to serve me?" she asks with the hint of a smile, dry and tinged with taunting.

He has no choice but to answer, "I can think of no greater pleasure, mistress."

It is not all a lie, Kahlan knows. For Darken Rahl, the sensual and the psychological entwine dangerously. He's always enjoyed making her moan, and perhaps he thinks tonight will be little different. If she moans at all tonight, though, it will not be through any initiative of his. Six years of marriage has taught Kahlan enough tricks of this twisted trade. "Touch yourself," she orders, after letting her gaze track along his firm muscles, his nearly flawless skin.

Darken's gaze doesn't leave hers—she'll have to punish him for that if she's to be a proper mistress at all, but she has time. For the moment she relishes being a voyeur, watching the way his hand cups and caresses his cock, thumb sliding over the tip with every stroke. His pulse quickens visibly, perhaps unwillingly. And Kahlan's mouth goes dry enough that she has to swallow.

It takes only a few heartbeats before his breathing becomes audible, the muscles in his thighs tightening. She can almost see the hot throb of blood each time his fingers stroke that smooth hard skin. "That's good," she says, almost softly. "That's enough. I like to see my pets at their best."

Darken gives her an annoyed look as he, reluctantly, rests his hands at his side. It won't be the first time.

Her boots clack on the stone floor as she circles him, slowly, taking in the physicality of the man. Staring at him as she never has, wishing she didn't have to hate him. Her fingers boldly trace the outline of his muscles, from chest to shoulders, from back down to buttocks. A little squeeze there, and she can hear his teeth grind. _Not so easy is it, to let someone else have control,_ she wants to taunt. Only he still thinks he has control. He thinks he's only giving in halfway, to win this challenge.

"On your knees," she orders next, and he obeys easily enough.

Pulling her skirt up over her knees, Kahlan plants one heel on his thigh. "My boots are tightly laced. Remove them for me."

Nimbly, his fingers undo the laces and slide the boot from her leg, lightly caressing the back of her calf. It sends a tingle up her spine, and when he does it on the second boot as well she hisses. As if unhearing, Darken presses his lips to her knee, stealing a kiss in a manner intended to be completely submissive.

 _Total control_ , Kahlan remembers, and knows she can't give in an inch if she's to succeed. She slaps him across the face, pulling her leg from his grasp.

The anger flashes in his eyes, like a sudden fire in the night—at any moment she expects him to break the act. Once in this deep, she doesn't want it to stop, so Kahlan holds his gaze coldly. "I didn't give you permission to kiss me."

His voice is smooth as silk and sharp as steel when he answers, "Of course, mistress."

Kahlan leans down and grasps his hair at the base of his neck, turning his face up towards hers. She feels terrified and bold as she takes his lower lip between her teeth and bites hard. "Good boy."

He refuses to lose. She can see in his eyes that he wants to lose; he wants to drag her to him, steal back the dominance she holds for now with lips and teeth and greedy fingers. But this game has very specific rules. The need for victory seems to choke him, and at last he has to drop his eyes and put the submissive mask more completely in place. "I am yours," come the flat words from his lips.

Kahlan doesn't care if he wins, doesn't care what happens afterwards. Grudgingly or not, he's in her palm. And she will crush him there. "I expect you to be on your best behavior now, Darken." His name has no weight in this room, not tonight.

"Of course," he assures her, tone utterly submissive even as his fingers twitch. "I will take no further liberties with your body."

Kahlan raises an eyebrow. "What makes you think that I require your assistance? I will not be stripping any more. My eyes are the only one that will take pleasure tonight..." Darken looks cheated, annoyed again, and the control she holds taste like fine wine. "Your eyes are insolent. Face the bed. You need a punishment to remind you of your place."

A mixture of hatred, stubbornness, and just a little fascination, shine from Darken's eyes as he turns his back to her. On his knees, forearms resting on the bed, he waits for her.

Kahlan takes a deep silent breath and lets it out. Her heartbeat flutters under her fingertips as she rests one hand over her chest, and she has to catch her focus again. She's winning. She's succeeding. The disdain, the superiority, begin to push awkwardness far away. If this is what the Mord'Sith feel with every pet, she can understand why it would become an addiction that they couldn't live without.

The Mord'Sith had given her a nine-tailed whip of leather cords, the handle wrapped and studded and thick under her hand. But the moment Kahlan picks it up, she knows she can't do it. Perfectionist that she is, she'd feel like a fool if she couldn't manage a simple flogging. The whip might as well be an agiel in her hand.

Glancing back at where Darken still waits, back and ass exposed to her, she chews her lower lip. Even from across the room, she can see every muscle tensed in his body. Let him wait, not knowing what's coming. Let him think of how he underestimated her. Kahlan takes another deep breath and lets it out, allowing Darken a few more moments to wallow in every form of vulnerability.

And it's then that she knows what she'll do. Head high and spine straight, she traverses the floor again to stand behind him. One nailed fingertip drags slowly down his spine, and his skin is almost taut with tension. Another few seconds pass, and she hopes the wait is agonizing before she lays a sharp slap over his buttocks.

Darken lets out a noise that's like nothing she's heard from the man before, entire body flinching. He swallows half of it, but what she hears is music to the ears.

"This is what happens, when you disobey," Kahlan says, almost purring. "You only hurt yourself by not submitting completely to my will." She gives him another slap, and this time he grits his teeth and makes no sound. "Do you understand?"

"Disobedience is met with punishment," he says through gritted teeth, fists twisting in the bedsheets. "I understand completely."

Kahlan makes a pleased sound, and spanks him again. Darken may stay silent for the humiliating punishment but he can't keep still, twitching on every strike, buttocks clenching. His skin starts to redden, and he _squirms_ but he stays silent until she finally stops.

Her hand is stinging too, but in a good way. It makes her want to laugh as if she's half drunk. Years of frustration now coming out in the perfect catharsis...Darken Rahl never made such a mistake as the one he did when he challenged her to this test of control. Kahlan enjoys giving him pain, mad as she is at this moment.

"You took your punishment well," she says with mild approval, cocking her hips even if he can't see them while still on his knees in front of the bed. This role, uncomfortable at first, now seems to cling to her like a well-tailored gown. "As a reward, I'll take my pleasure from you."

The words barely leave her mouth before he's turning to face her, cock still erect as a symbol of his frustration.

"Did I say you could move?" she snaps. A battle takes place between their eyes for a few tense seconds, as she dares him to stop playing the good pet and he demands to know what happens next. He should know. He knows the Mord'Sith better than her.

Yet again, stubbornness wins out and he returns to his knees. Waiting.

Kahlan's grateful, as she fumbles with the leather harness, that he can't see her. Unfamiliarity with the device reminds her that she's not a Mord'Sith, and for one tiny instant she wishes she was. Buckling it around her hips, her hand slips between her legs. The wetness there surprises her. Not entirely a mind game after all...perhaps it's no more than should be expected.

When everything is in place at last, Kahlan flushes for the first time. She flushes to look down and see a phallus between her legs. She flushes to open the jar of scented oil to make the phallus shiny and slick. The Mord'Sith had laughed at her, when she flushed to see the technique demonstrated on a willing moaning sister—it makes Kahlan pause now and ask _why_.

But dear creator the answer is obvious. Robbed of power for so many years, it's like a drug to her now. To have Darken—to fuck him—is in her capacity because she needs to do something. Kahlan is learning to play by Darken's rules to survive. The Mother Confessor wouldn't do this, but Kahlan is a reluctant Rahl now. And so it's sexuality, the all purpose tool in this house, and she both hates and loves it as she walks across the room to the man submitting to her.

"Very good," she says, caressing Darken's hair. "You didn't move at all." She slides her hips closer so that the hard phallus grinds against his ass.

He flinches again, hisses. "Kahlan!"

Jaw tight, she grabs his hair. "I thought you said you were mine."

It's the third time he forces himself to be submissive, overcoming arrogance and instinct. Third time's the charm, and Kahlan's bitterness is appeased once more—temporarily, but oh so satisfactorily.

Without hesitation she keeps a hold of his hair, forcing his cheek against the mattress. Her other hand guides the phallus, and she fumbles momentarily again but only momentarily. Then, with a slow forward thrust of her hips, she takes him.

Darken's entire body shudders as he's filled, a groan escaping his lips. Not pain, not pleasure, but something else entirely. Kahlan can only imagine, but his feelings aren't what grab her attention. To look down, see her cock buried in the ass of Lord Rahl himself, is a dangerous, wicked, dark sensation. Her heart pounds against her ribs—and she begins to thrust.

Pretending that she's just a mistress, and he's just a pet, she fucks Darken Rahl without hesitation. And like the good pet he's pretending to be, he breathes not a word of protest. He groans, arches, clenches and twitches, moves in time to her steady rhythm. But no more.

He might win this challenge after all, Kahlan thinks, her hips jutting forward and driving the phallus into him. Her role is starting to feel natural, but he too is adapting. Neck arched, muscles flexed, he rocks his hips back to hers, completely accepting her. Unable to look away, Kahlan fucks him, and the more he enjoys it the harder she becomes. Tighter and tighter, her fingers threaten to pull hair from his scalp. Darken just lets out shuddering gasps as if he enjoys even that—as if he _likes_ this as much as he likes taunting her.

"You like being used by your mistress, don't you," she demands, a little breathless and harsh. The competition is pulling her in, consuming her, like their very marriage itself tries to do.

"Yes," he says hoarsely, and she can't pinpoint the lie in it.

"You enjoy it when I take my pleasure from you."

"Yes."

A particularly hard thrust and his whole body seems to roll with it, a husky moan escaping his lips.

Harder, faster, Kahlan forgets that she isn't a Mord'Sith after all. The leather harness rubs against her clit each time the phallus disappears into his ass, and she has to bite back her own moans. "You love your mistress."

Again, hoarse with pleasure, he answers, "Yes."

Darken grips the bed as she takes him, knuckles white with the strain of keeping still. Looking down, Kahlan can see his still-erect cock swaying beneath him, the tip damp and glistening with how strong his arousal is. Even this has him right on the edge of climax...

Not done yet, Kahlan pulls from him and removes the harness, letting it drop to the floor. Before he can do anything but try to catch a breath, she mounts up onto the bed and gestures for him to join her with a flick of her head. "You want release?"

Blue eyes swirling with dark but inescapable lust, he can't even answer.

"Maybe I don't want to give it to you," she says, scratching a nail down the length of him.

This time it's pain that has him shuddering, and the words fall from his lips saturated with humiliation. "Please, mistress..."

"Begging?" She looks him in the eye, wanting to remember this moment for the rest of her lifetime.

Self-loathing isn't enough to keep Darken from whispering, "Please."

Wanton, demanding, as any proper mistress should be, Kahlan spreads her legs. "Then put that mouth to good use."

He descends eagerly to the task, and this time it's Kahlan who gasps and throws her head back, his hot lips and tongue unbearably perfect. Gripping his hair again and bucking her hips into his face, she loses herself in pleasure. Darken knows what he's doing—licking, sucking, over and over, and she has to murmur, "More!"

Climax finally sweeps through her in a trembling wave of bliss, and she holds him to her, not caring if he suffocates. Tonight wasn't about pleasure for her, but she finds heaven nonetheless. Kahlan escapes herself, escapes everything, and lives for a few seconds in the perfect world.

Then it's back to the game, and Kahlan doesn't miss a beat. She wraps a hand around Darken's cock and gives a tug. When he groans, she does it again, and by the third rough tug of her hand he's finished. His seed shoots over her breasts and he sags in relief.

It can't be an act anymore. She made him hers, and then she made him undone. Nothing can be unwritten. They both won tonight, technically, but Kahlan feels much more the victor. "Now clean up the mess you made," she purrs.

He does, licking every last drop of his seed from her skin until she's clean again. For the first time since they married, Kahlan smiles at Darken Rahl. Because it's the only thing to say, she says, "I'm very pleased."

And that's it. The end of the charade. Kahlan doesn't know what happens next and she doesn't care. Catharsis was hers, more than she ever dreamed, and life runs hotly through her veins again.

For some reason, as they sit there and catch their breath, she doesn't worry about his next move in the bitter chess game that is their marriage. One cannot act a part without embracing at least a fraction of it. From the way Darken Rahl doesn't meet her eyes, she's not the only one who knows that fact.


End file.
